Admiral Razor set his ship down on a remote, uncharted planet. He powers down his stardrives, then his ion drives, then his Inifinite Probability Drive, and finally his Finite Drive.
He disembarks from his ship, taking his construction kit with him. Within days, he's fabricated a shelter, dug a well for water, and constructed a landing beacon for visitors.
Within the month, he's cleared out a cavern for his ship, set the charges, and buried the thing, after having removed all needed items and parts.
That night, he lay back in his chair, looking at the stars he once flew amongst. He smiled, remembering the days when he merely was some shuttle jockey. He sighed and grew mellow at the times he stalked and killed unsuspecting cargo ships. Finally, he cast a glance back in the direction of where his ship now lay, unreachable.
"Maybe the aliens will come take it back. Maybe some other space explorer will find it, and repair it, and use it. Then again, maybe not."
Within the year, Admiral Razor died. No one was there to see him die, no one was there to bury him, no one was there to have a funeral for him.
The only thing that marked his passing, was a twin tailed comet that seared overhead, like his ships twin engines burning sky.
A flametrail across the sky...
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lucifer1101
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smithy953!
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